


Fallen

by rane_ab



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Attempted Murder, Cousin Incest, F/F, Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-25 22:45:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4979524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rane_ab/pseuds/rane_ab
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morgana is something, everyone agrees. But that something is not a ruler.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fallen

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Round 4: Forbidden of the [Summerpornathon 2015](http://summerpornathon.livejournal.com/113048.html).

Morgause fucks up the first time they meet. She tries to play Morgana: whispers

                                                                                                                                         p

                                                                                                                                           o

                                                                                                                                              i

                                                                                                                                                 s

                                                                                                                                                   o

                                                                                                                                                      n

in her ear; laces it with just enough sweetness. Or so she thinks.

 

But Morgana’s blood has been poisoned a long time ago, by

the monarchy,

tradition,

(her father,)

and she does not fall for Morgause’s trick.

*

Morgana is **three** years older than Arthur. She beats him at fencing as easily as she beats her fists into the punching bag at the gym to the angry beat of her heart (thud, thud, _thud_ ) , and she’s a lady besides, elegant, polite, demure (perhaps not demure), smart, a great conversationalist.

 

She is _something_ , everyone agrees.

 

But that something is not a ruler, not a monarch, because, Morgana,

                                                                                                       (listen)

                                                                                                                (listen)

                                                                                                                              you’re a woman.

                                                                                                                                                             (Don’t be ridiculous.)

*

She doesn’t fall for Morgause’s trick, but Morgause has a tattoo on the inside of her arm.

It looks like a snake and tastes a lot like _want_ , curling salty and thirsty at the back of Morgana’s tongue.

It goes up, _up_ , **up** to her armpit, damp and delicious and it tastes a lot like want and like

 \- Morgana, what on earth do you think you are doing, besmirching the Pendragon name – 

and she smiles against Morgause’s soft breasts and hard stomach and the inside of her thighs (especially the inside of her thighs), and makes Morgause – older, so much more experienced – come with nothing but her tongue.

She doesn’t let Morgause touch her, but shoves a hand between her own legs, humps down on it, with her face sticky and wet and and her mouth all sore, still buried between Morgause’s thighs, still buried in her heavy, heady scent.

When she comes, it tastes sweet, so very sweet, like revenge.

*

Uther doesn’t disappoint (a refreshing change), the anger boiling out of him (the shame).

**No! Daughter! Of mine! Yadda yadda yadda**

Somehow, Morgana doubts it’s the fact that they’re cousins that bothers him.

Arthur tries to help; tries to calm his father; drags Morgana away and says, face full of concern, “Morgana, what do you think you’re doing?”

Morgana hates him.

She taught him how to ride a horse, fought armies of tin knights with him, in their pyjamas in the middle of the night, laughed at his bruises and kissed them better, too.

He doesn’t understand why she wants to be queen, so much work, so much responsibility, Morgana, enjoy your freedom.

Well, she _is_. She spits it in his face.

*

Morgause believes in magic, and Morgana tries not to laugh as she chants and crushes something disgusting to curse the poor soul who keeps stealing her parking spot.

It’s hard, living in the modern age. Or so Morgause tells her.

Morgana thinks she might be a bit mad (no wonder they’re cousins).

She feels exhilarated as she pushes Morgause down on the bed; as Morgause, strong, capable, slightly mad Morgause, lets her. She rides Morgause’s thigh and then teases, teases, teases her, until she’s quite breathless and annoyed, until all Morgana needs to do is press her hand to Morgause’s cunt, and she rides up in waves, coming, all flushed and lovely, and Morgana kisses her.

*

Morgause likes it when she bites, so Morgana does; sinks in her teeth, leaves her mark – crooked, always crooked.

Morgause shakes, a little.

*

Morgana gets a tattoo, on her arm, for everyone to see. It’s a fox. Uther is appalled; Arthur sighs. Arthur’s assistant looks away (there is a dragon crawling over his shoulder; Morgana saw it once, by accident. Merlin never mentions it).

*

The poison is right there

(in her veins)

in the vial Morgause gave her and it goes easily,

                                                                                      drip

                                                                                                                               drip

                                                                                                                                                                         drip

 

into Arthur’s glass.

She gives it to him;

her hand shakes

and it falls to its untimely death,

the glass and her soul,

in shatters on the floor.

*

Morgause holds her. She used to smell like danger; now, she smells like home.

“Politics,” she says, close to Morgana’s ear, like it’s a dirty word. Not the good kind.

Morgana laughs, can’t help it. “I could make it work.

**DOWN WITH THE MONARCHY**

                                             That sort of thing.”

 Morgana is _something_ , after all.

”I could just curse their souls.”

”You do that.”

“You are mad.”

”I am,” Morgana says, and

s

i

n

k

s

down,  
into madness  
into Morgause’s embrace  
(into the vee of her thighs)  
into something like belonging.


End file.
